INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION. .
CHAPTER XXXIU.—(Co*Tisu*».>i
The nurse, having lifted little Leon
'■Into the bed, returned to her chair be
side the Are, while Marjorie put her
arm around the little fellow's shoul
ders and presently fell asleep.
Now that the fever had actually
passed away, Marjorie’s convalescence
■was rapid.
She still kept to her bed, being too
■weak even to move without assistance,
and during the day little Leon was con
stantly with her. She asked a few
questions, and the more she heard the
more her curiosity was aroused.
One day she inquired for the grave
lady whose face she dimly remembered
to have seen, and who she now heard
was the mistress of the house. In the
afternoon the lady came to the bed
side.
Marjorie wa3 sitting up in bed that
-day, propped up by pillows, looking the
very ghost of what she had once been;
while on the bed beside her was little
Leon, surrounded by his toys. He look
ed up, laughed, and clapped his hands
when Miss Dove came in, but she only
smiled and gently rebuked him for his
boisterousness.
Then she sat down beside the bed
and took Marjorie’s baud.
“Well, my child,” she said, “so
you are rapidly getting well.”
For a moment Marjorie was silent—
she could not speak. The tears were
blinding her eyes and choking her
voice, but she bent her head and kissed
the hand that had saved her.
“Come, come,” said Miss Dove, "you
must not give way like this. You have
to tell me all about yourself, for at
present I know absolutely nothing.”
With an effort, Marjorie conquered
her emotion and dried her tears. But
what had she to tell?—nothing, it
seemed, except that she was friendless
and alone.
-Nay, said the lady, gently. “You
are not that; from the moment you en
tered this door you had friends. But
tell me, my child, how was it I found
you and'your child starving upon my
threshold? You have a husband, per
haps? Is he alive or dead?”
Marjorie shook her head.
"He is here, in Paris, madame.’*
“And his name is Caussidiere, is it
not? So Leon has told me.”
“Yes, madame. Monsieur Caussi
diere.”
" - "We roust seek him out,” continued
Miss Dove. “Such conduct is not to
be endured. A man has no right to
bring his wife to a foreign country and
then desert her.”
“Ah, no,” cried Marjorie; “you must
fot do that. I will leave the house
whenever you wish, madame. but do
not force me to see him again.”
Miss Dove looked at her for a mo
ment in silence; then she rang for the
nurse, lifted Leon from the bed, and
sent him away.
“Now, my child,” she said, when the
two women were alone, “tell me your
story.”
And Marjorie told it, or as much of it
as she could recall. She told of her
early life in the quaint old manse in
Annandale with Mr. Lorraine Solomon
and Mysie; of Miss Hetherington, and
of the Frenchman who came with his
specious tongue and wooed her away.
Then she told of her life in Paris, of
her gradual estrangement from all her
friends, and finally of her desertion by
the roan whom until then she had be
lieved to be her husband.
“So,” said the lady, when she had
finished, “you were married by the
English law, and the man is in reality
not your husband. Well, the only
thing we can do is to leave him alone
altogether, and apply to your friends.”
Marjorie shook her head.
"That is useless, madame,” she said.
“When my little boy had naught but
starvation before him I wrote to my
mother in Annandale, but she did not
answer me.”
“Yes, madame, It is true.”
“It is very strange,” she said, “but
-we must see what can be done, Mar
jorie—may I call you Marjorie? In the
meantime you must not think of all
these sad things. You must amuse
yourself with Leon and get well quick
ly, and my task will be the lighter.”
After this interview Miss Dove visit
ed Marjorie every day, and sometimes
sat for an hour or more by her bedside;
and when at length the invalid, who
gained strength every day, was able
to rise from her bed, she lay upon a
•couch by the window, and watched the
sunshine creeping into the streets.
It was not like Marjorie to remain
idle when there was so much to be
-dene, and as the weakness passed away
lier brain began to work, planning for
<he future. She had several schemes
made when she spoke of them one
night tq Miss Dove.
The lady listened quietly, then she
said:
“You would rather remain in Paris,
Marjorie, than go home?”
“Madame, I have no home.”
“You have Annandale Castle.”
She shook her head.
“Indeed, it is not my home now! I
wrote, and there was no answer."
“But suppose you heard that that
was all a mistake; suppose you learned
that your dear mother was ready to
open her arms to receive you, what
would you say then, my child?”
Varjorie did not reply, If the truth
irust be told, her troubled heart found
little comfort in the thought of a meet
ing with Miss Hetherington.
At last, after long reflection, she
spoke:
"I know my mother—she is my
mother—is very good; but it has all
been a fatality since I was born, and I
can hardly realize yet that we are so
close akin. Ah! if I had but known,
madame! If she had but told me at
the first,, I should never have left Scot
land, or known so much sorrow!”
Miss Dove sighed in sympathetic ac
quiescence.
“It is a sad story,” she replied.
“Your mother, proud lady as she is,
has been a great sinner; but she has
been terribly punished. Surely, my
child, you do not bear any anger
against her in your heart?”
“None, madame; but she is so strange
and proud. I am almost afraid of her
still.”
“And you have other loving friends,”
continued the lady, smiling kindly,
"Do you remember Mr. Sutherland?”
“Johnnie Sutherland?” cried Mar
jorie, joyfully. “Who told you of him?”
“Himself. He is back here in Paris.”
Marjorie uttered a cry of delight.
“You have seen him? You have spok
en to him? He knows-”
“He knows everything, my child; and
he is waiting below till I give him the
signal to come up. Can you bear to see
him?"
There was no need to ask that ques
tion. Marjorie’s flushed cheek and
sparkling eye had answered it long be
fore. Miss Dove stole quietly from the
room, and almost immediately reap
peared, followed by Sutherland him
self.
“Marjorie! my poor Marjorie!” he
cried, seizing her hands and almost
sobbing.
But who was this that, Marjorie saw
approaching, through the mist of her
own joyful tears? A stooping figure,
leaning upon a staff, turning toward
her a haggard fa e, and stretching out
a trembling palsied hand. It was Miss
Hetherington, trembling and weeping,
all the harsh lineaments softened with
the yearning of a mother’s love.
“My bairn! my bairn!”
“Oh, mother! mother!” cried Mar
jorie; and mother and daughter clung
together, reunited in a passionate em
brace.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
HEY took her home
with her little boy
to Amiandale, and
there in the old
Castle Marjorie
soon recovered her
health and her
strength. It
was winter still;
the landscape was
Waite with snow,
the trees hung
heavily under the icy load, and a blue
mask of Ice covered the flowing An
nan from bank to bank; but to Mar
jorie all was gladsome and familiar as
she moved about from scene to scene.
She wore black, like a widow, and so
did little Leon; and, indeed, it was a
common report everywhere that her
husband was dead, and that she was
left alone. -1
As to Miss Hetherington’s secret, all
the world knew it now, for the swift
tongue of scandal had been busy be
fore Marjorie’s return. Heedless of the
shame, heedless of all things in the
world, save her joy in the possession
of her daughter, the grand old lady re
mained in deep seclusion in her lonely
ancestral home.
In these sad, yei. happy days, who
could be gentler than Miss Hethering
ton? The mask of her pride fell off
forever, and showed a mother’s loving
face, sweetened with humility and
heavenly pity. She was worn and fee
ble, and looked very old; but whenever
Marjorie was near she was happiness
itself.
The fullest measure of her love, how
ever, was reserved for Marjorie’s child.
Little Leon had no fear of her, and
soon, in his pretty broken English,
learned to call her “grandmamma.”
“We began wi’ a bar sinister,” said
the lady one day, as they sat together;
“but there’s no blame and no shame,
Marjorie, on you and yours. Your son
is the heir of Annandale.”
“Oh, mother,” cried Marjorie, sadly,
“how can that be? I am a mother, but
no wife.”
“You’re wife to yon Frenchman,” an
swered Miss Hetherington; “ay, his
lawful wedded wife by the English and
the Scottish law. Out there in France
he might reject you by the law of man;
but here in Scotland, you're his true
wife still, though I wish, with all my
heart, you were his widow instead.”
“Is that so, mother?”
“True as gospel, Marjorie. It’s wi’ me
the shame lies, like the bright speck of
blood on the hands of the thane’s wife,
which even the perfumes of Araby
couldna cleanse awa’I"
“Don't talk of that, mother!” cried
Marjorie, embracing the old lady. “I
am sure you are not to blame."
“And you can forgive me, my bonny
bairn?”
“I have nothing to forgive; you were
deceived as—as I have been. Oh,
mother, men are wicked!—I think they
have evil hearts.”
The old ladv looked long and fondly
in her daughter’s face; then 6he said,
with a loving smile:
“I ken one man that has tho heart
of a king—ay, of an angel, Marjorie."
"Who, mother?”
"Who but Johnnie Sutherland? my
blessings on the lad! But for him, I
should have lost my bairn forever, and.
it was for his sake, Marjorie, that I
wished ye were a widow indeed!"
Marjorie flushed a deep crimson and
turned her head away. Sutherland's
unswerving devotion had not failed to
touch her deeply, and she understood
it now in all its passionate depth and
strength; but she still felt herself un
der the shadow of her old sorrow, and
she knew that the tie which bound her
to Caussidiere could only be broken by
death.
Thus time passed on, until the dreary
desolate winter of that terrible year,
so memorable to France and French
men, set in with all its vigor. There
was little joy for Sutherland. Indeed,
his trials were becoming almost more
than he could bear, and he was wonder
ing whether or not, after all, he should
leave his home and Marjorie, when
there came a piece of news which fair
ly stunned him.
It came in the shape of a letter and
a paper from his Parisian artist friend.
The letter, after a few preparatory
words, ran as follows:
“You may be shocked, but I hardly
think you will be sorry to hear of the
death of your little friend’s husband,
Leon Caussidiere. He disappeared in a
most mysterious manner, and is sup
posed to have been privately put to
death. What he was, Heaven knows!
but he mixed a good deal in politics,
and judging from what you told me
about him, I shouldn’t be at all sur
prised to hear that he was a spy. Well,
at any rate, whatever he was he is gone
—peace be to his soul, and I fancy the
world will get on a good deal better
without him than with him. At any
rate, a certain part of it will, I know!
With this I send a paper, that you may
read the official account of the death
of your friend, and know that there
is no mistake about it.”
Having finished the letter, Suther
land turned to the paper—glanced
down its columns; came upon a mark
ed paragraph, and read as follows in
the French tongue:
“Caussidiere, holding an officer's
commission under the Committee of
Public Safety, has been convicted of
treasonable practices and put to death.
He was tried by military tribunal, and
executed yesterday.”
Sutherland put down the paper and
held his hands to his head; he was
like a man dazed. Was he glad? No,
he would not allow himself to feel glad
—to rejoice in the death of a fellow
creature, even though he was his en
emy.
And yet, if Caussidiere was dead,
Marjorie was free. The very thought
seemed to turn his brain. He put both
the letter and the paper in his pocket,
and went up to his room. He could not
work, but he sat down, among his pict
ures and tried to think.
What must he do? Go to Marjorie?
No, he could not do that—for she would
detect the joy in his face and voice,
and her sensitive nature would recoil
from him, and that he could not bear.
He must not see her; other lips than
his must tell the news.
He remained all the morning shut
up in his room, but in the afternoon
he left the house, and walked slowly
across the fields toward Annandale
•'Castle.
(TO BB CONTINUED.)
COAL AND IRON.
Showing That Great Britain Is Not
Holding Her Own.
Statistics show that, whereas Great
Britain in 1840 produced 75 per cent of
the world’s supply of coal, at the pres
et time it produces only 34 per eent,
?iys Nature. Atlantic liners no longer
carry coal from Great Britain for the
return journey; they now take in
American coal, and no less than 1,500,
000 tons of American coal were thus
consumed in 1895. The condition of the
iron manufacturing industries has al
ways exercised a most Important influ
ence on the production of coal so that
a large demand for iron draws wKh
it a large demand for mineral fuel. Dur
ing the last twenty-five years the
world’s production of pig iron has in
creased from 12,000,000 to 26,000,000
tons; but the share taken by
Great Britain has fallen from
48.8 per cent to 29 per cent,
while that of the United States
has increased from 14.1 per cent to
26.2 per cent, that of Germany from
11.4 per cent to 21.4 per cent, and that
of Russia from 3 per cent to 4.7 per
cent. Indeed, iron is now being im
ported from the United States into this
country, and, incredible as it may
seem, the railway station at Middles
borough, the center of the iron trade,
is built of iron brought from Belgium.
Surely, then, the author of "Our Coal
Resources at the Close of the Nine
teenth Century” is hardly right in
thinking that British coal and Iron
still hold their own. He argues that
other countries of Europe are exhaust
ing their coal supplies just as Great
Britain, yet the figures he gives show
that Germany has in reserve, within a
depth of 3,000 feet, 109,000,000,000 tons
of coal, as compared with our 81,683,
000,000 tons within a depth of 4,000 feet.
And this estimate does not include
brown coal, of which Germany raises
25,000,000 tons annually.
Probable Change in the Rubber Industry
Hitherto rubber has usually been se
cured by the wasteful method of cut
ting down the trees. The recent dis
covery that the leaves furnish a purer
and more copious supply of gum than
the trees, promises to produce a great
change in that Industry.
THE ISSUE IS MADE.
■T WILL BE GOLD AGAINST
SILVER.
Republican* Mint Standby tx> ,v’rr Ini »
t rut Inn and lta Policy of financial
Reform—Tariff Oumtlon Is Settled by
lllnsley 11111.
Tlio Congressional Issue of 1898 has
uow been joined. By tlielr espousal
af the Teller resolution in the Senate
and then In the House the Democrats
have forced the fighting. Every mem
ber of the Democratic party in the
House, except McAleer of Pennsylva
nia and Elliott of South Carolina, voted
for the Teller resolution; every Re
publican except Linney and White,
both of North Carolina, voted against
it. This practical unanimity sets the
two parties in array along the line of
this question: Shall the United States
lie and steal?
For many years Congress thought it
sufficient, in providing for the issue of
bonds by the government, to .'promise
tq pay in legal-tender coin, buti as early
as 1870, when the great refunding act
of the Grant administration was
passed, the form of obligation was
changed to "in coin of the present
standard value.” At that time the val
ues of the two kinds of standard coins
gold and silver, were the same, al
most exactly. So far as there was any
difference the silver dollar was more
valuable than the gold dollar, but prac
tically they were the same, and the
pledge of the government at that time
was to pay interest and principal in
coin of equal value. That promise has
been renewed from time to time in
other bond acts, not by inference and
implication, but definitely by specific
reference to the obligation assumed in
the act of 1870. The actual adoption
of the Teller resolution, in the pres
ent state of the gold and silver mar
kets, would have made every govern
ment bond issued under the act of
1870, or any subsequent bond act, both
a lie and a steal. The proposition, as
the national debt now stands, is to
steal from the bondholders fully $500,
000,000, and that in face of the fact that
each bond declares to the holder that
he shall be paid in full in coin worth
the same as the standard coin of the
United States was worth July 14, 1870.
There has been just one parallel to
this proposition on a large scale. In
the days when Spain was at the zenith
of its prosperity and the mines of
Mexico and Peru were at the height
of their output King Philip undertook
to debase the coinage and make every
new piece of money a minted lie. It
was the most gigantic swindle ever at
tempted up to that time. It would
have been robbery, perpetrated upon
all who received the coin in payment.
The plan was concocted in secret, and
was to have been put into execution
clandestinely. It was frustrated. The
King was at a disadvantage. He want
ed to use those coins In making pur
chases, not In paying debts. But the
Teller plan is to take advantage of
those whom we already owe. These
creditors are at the mercy of the Amer
ican people. If the United States should
repudiate its entire debt, and not mere
ly half of it, who is there that could
stop it? All the world would point
the finger of scorn at us, and brand
us as liars and thieves. As Corea be
came known as the hermit nation, so
the United States would become in the
eyes of all the civilized world the rob
ber nation. It is upon this issue that
the Congressional campaign of 1898
wlll‘be waged throughout the country.
It is deeply disgraceful to have such
an issue raised, but the Republican
party is not responsible for it. The
Democratic party forced the issue, and
the Republican party has repudiated
repudiation, and invites all honest men
to join in demonstrating to the world
that the United States, as a nation, is
neither a liar nor a thief.
Earnest and High-Minded. -
From the Indianapolis Journal: The
address of President McKinley before
the organization of manufacturers in
New York is one of the best of the
many thoughtful utterances he has |
made since his nomination. Whatever
individuals may think of the Presi
dent’s views, all candid men will agree
that his speech is characterized by
strength and dignity fitting the great
office he holds. It is gratifying to the
national pride to feel that no living
ruler, born to the position, can speak
upon national and international themes
with anything like the power and
breadth which characterized the last
speech of the President. It presents
a wide contrast with the pettiness of
the speaking with which the time of
Congress is being wasted.
In the first part of the address the
President outlined the duty of progres
sive government. It ean aid commerce,
but the enterprise of the people must
promote it; it can make reciprocal
treaties, but these will n<ft be effective j
unless labor, capital, skill and energy 1
combine to utilize them. The Presi
dent assumes that the onward move
ment of the productive forces of the
country must be directed to securing
a prominent place in the world’s mar
kets. What the President says regard
ing the money of the country is clear
and emphatic—we must keep the best,
pay all obligations in the best. The
victory is not yet won, and will not
be until a sound currency is secured
by law. He warns the timid that the
work of providing the country a stable
currency must go on. Even If failure
results at the present time, the result
will prpve that the party and the men
who stand for sound currency have
done their duty.
At the present time these earnest and
high-minded expressions of the Presi
dent will give confidence to all those
people who believe in broad statesman
ship and have positive convictions In
regard to the duty of government. Con
sequently, many thousands of thought
ful men who do not agree with the
President on a number of points will
respond with alacrity to his patriotic,
high-minded and courageous expres
sions. They will not call themselves
Republicans, but faith in the leading
expressions of Mr. McKinley will cause
them to come to the support of the
measures and the line of action he now
advocates.
For Cheating Bondholder!.
Bailey of Texas is the Democratic
leader in the house and made the clos
ing speech for the Teller resolution on
Monday. He took the ground boldly
that the government should pay Its
bonded debt In free coinage silver dol
lars. First, because they would be
cheap and it would not cost much In
real valuo to pay off what the govern
ment owes—which Is a mean, dishonest
reason—and, second, that bond-holders
are an idle, worthless, blood sucking
class. He wound up his speech In these
words: "Do one of you believe,” said
he, addressing the Republicans—
“That if the bond-holder owed the
government under a similar contract,
that he would not exercise his option.
If it is right that he should exercise Ills
option, as he would, we believe the gov
ernment has the same right with the
positions reversed. (Democratic ap
plause.) We are ready to meet you on
this Issue, the issue that the money
which is good enough for the people
who produce the wealth is good enough
for the Idlers who spend it; that the
money which is good enough for the
poor Is good enough for the rich; that
the money the laborer receives for his
toil and the merchant for his wares is
good enough for the bond-holder, and,
by the eternal, he shall be compelled to
take it."
At this point the hammer fell, amid
a burst of enthusiasm from the Demo
cratic side. This frothy rant exhibits
either crude and pitiable ignorance or
the spirit of charlatan humbug. Who
are these idle, bloated bondholders, and
to what use are the bonds put by them?
There are in round numbers about 848
millions of interest bearing bonds out
standing, including the 262 millions
added to the debt in time of peace by
Cleveland’s Democratic administration
to make good the revenue deficiencies
caused by the Democratic low tariff.
Two hundred and sixty millions of the
bonds are held in the treasury as se
curity for the redemption of the nation
al bank notes. And that is for the good
of the whole American people. Would
it be for their benefit to thave those
bank note security bonds paid oft in
44-cent dollars, thereby cheating the
million of bank note holders out of 56
cents on the dollar?
But that is exactly what the Demo
cratic house leader, Bailey, advocates,
and is vociferously cheered for doing.
—Chicago Tribune.
A Memorable Utterance,
From the Philadelphia Press: Presi
dent McKinley's speech at the great
banquet of the manufacturers in New
York is the most important and mem
orable utterance he has made since he
took the executive chair.
It even exceeds the message in pro
found import and far-reaching signifi
cance. That was an official paper ad
dressed to Congress, It has the re
straints of official form and language.
Here the President speaks direct
ly to the people with all the
earnestness of eye to eye, with
all the gravity of a recognized
danger and with all the impressive
force of a solemn public pledge and
summons.
The weighty and glowing words
moved one of the most brilliant popular
assemblages this country has ever wit
nessed as men are rarely stirred, and
only by deliverances which sound the
deepest depths of consciousness and
conviction. They roused that represen
tative and thoughtful body to an almost
continuous outburst of patriotic and
passionate enthusiasm, which could at
the close find its fit and culminating
expression only in the spontaneous
breaking forth of "America.” And as
they are more calmly read all over the
land they will awaken everywhere the
same responsive sentiment and intense
gratification.
For in his speech the President
sounds the battle note of a renewed,
courageous, persistent, unyielding con
test for the highest financial honor and
integrity. It Is his answer to the chal
lenge of the wayward senate majority.
It is his fresh assurance and his plight
ed faith to the world. It is his proc
lamation to all mankind that so long
as he Is president there shall be no
debasement of our vital money stand
ard, and that under his leadership the
battle shall begin now and go forward
without ceasing to place our currency
where no president and no capricious
wave of feeling can Imperil it.
No faltering, no cowardice, no half
heartedness—these are the president’s
notes. His utterance comes like a
trumpet call, and It summons the
friends of honest money to gird on
their armor for the battle before us.
Since Mr. Bryan’s return from Mex
ico he has furnished no light upon the
condition of the workingmen in that
country—a question in which a large
number of his followers are deeply in
terested. If he had he would have
been compelled to tell them that wages
in that country are only about one
third to one-half what they are In the
United States, besides being paid In a
currency worth less than 50 per cent
of 'our own.
The "National Democrat*.**
The irresistible force of logic Is now
rapidly carrying the National Demo
crats to the point where the real mer
its of the controversy between honest
money and repudiation will be too cleat
before their eyes to permit of their
blinking them, and at the head is the
Hon. Simon Bolivar Buckner of Ken
tucky, the candidate for vice president
on the ticket of the Democrats who re
fused to vote for Bryan and yet would
not vote tax the man to beat him, Mc
Kinley. General Buckner has spoken
freely through the Indianapolis Senti
nel:
"The gold Democrats find themselves
in a rather peculiar situation this year.
The leaders of the gold movement in
the Democratic party who conducted
the exodus in 1896 now find themselves
confronted by a serious obstacle. The
rank end file—employes who voted
with their employers in the last cam
paign—this year want to vote their old
party ticket whether Democratic or Re
publican, and so if the gold Democrats
place a ticket in the field they are liable
to be left exclusively a party of generals
without any rank or file or forces back
of them, as the great mass of men are
unwilling to vote any third ticket. They
would thus be placed before the coun
try in a ridiculous light, and the dig
nity of the movement would be endan
gered. This would be an argument
against a gold Democratic ticket. The
financial plank being this year the
primal issue, gold standard advocates
being arrayed on principle against the
advocates of the double standard, fol
lowers of the single gold standard
would naturally stand together. This
would mean gold Democrats voting
with the Republicans, but there are
other Issues in which the Republicans
and gold Democrats are opposed. These
would tend to keep the gold Democrats
from voting with the Republicans,while
the reasons mentioned are operative to
prevent a gold ticket being put in the
field. These are things that deserve
the most careful consideration and are
problems which are confronting gold
Democrats.”
In imagining that in 1896 they were
supporting the cause of honest money,
while in reality they were looking cold
ly on as neutrals, the National Demo
crats were blinded by the enthusiasm
of revolt against what they knew was
fraud and anarchy. This enthusiasm
has passed, leaving general wonder that
men of the Palmer and Buckner stamp
could have been so emotional and fan
ciful at such a time. The humblest
Democrat who cast his vote for McKin
ley was a sounder politician and a, :
i clearer minded patriot than the distin
guished statesmen who made up the
National Democratic ticket.
General Buckner’s words in the In
dianapolis Sentinel show that he, and
we take him for a type of his recent fol
lowers, is still bewildered as to the
past, and, therefore, uncertain for the
future. His references to "other Is
sues” which might keep the gold Demo
crats from voting with the Republic
ans, and to the danger of his movement
being compromised in its dignity,show
that he does not know absolutely
whether his scarcely two-year-old de
nunciation of the fraud of free silver
and the Populistic heresies of the Chi
cago platform came from a sincere and
stable reason, or whether the financial
honor and credit of the United States,
the tariff, or bank currency reform, is.
the more Important and the more com
manding of an American citizen’s at
tention.
Are General Buckner and his friends
to be less slow in understanding these
issues, less high minded in giving to
the importance of each its proper rank,
and less resolute to stand by the re
lentless .conclusions of honor and en
lightenment than the thousands of oth
er Democrats who, Beelng the situation
of the country in 1896, voted for the
Republican party, and will continue to
vote for it so long as it stands for fed
eral financial honesty against the vi
cious and deluded monsters of repudi
ation? The National Democrats can
not much longer deceive themselves.
They must be either poltroons or men.
—New York Sun (Rep.)
The Brand of Two Senator*.
On the very day that Senator Lind
say of Kentucky voted for the Teller
resolution the Legislature of his state
branded him as a deserter. The next
day the Legislature of New York put
a brand on Senator Murphy of that
state. The language used at Albany
was less severe that that employed at
Frankfort, but it came to much the
same thing. Each Senator was ac
cused, and justly, of misrepresenting
his state. This is1 especially true of
the Troy brewer, whose term will ex
pire in 1899. Edward Murphy, Jr., oc
cupies the seat once honored by a
Clinton, ar Wright, a Marcy, a Dickin
son, a Seward, and a Conkllng. If
there is one state which abhors finan
cial dishonor more utterly than another
it is New York. It often goes Demo
cratic, but Bryan was snowed under a
McKinley plurality of more than a
quarter of a million. On local or side
issues the state can be swept into the
Democratic camp, but if only the issue
of the Teller resolution is made duly
definite next fall the Democracy will
fare even worse in 1898 than in 1896.
At the last regular Congressional elec
tion the Republicans carried four dis
tricts outside of that city, including the
five Representatives from Brooklyn.
The Murphys and Lindsays, who are
sound money men in conviction but
vote on the robber side, are without
the slightest excuse in their betrayal
of a high trust, and deserve the public
contempt which will follow them to
their political graves and be read be
tween the lines of their epitaphs.
The only charms some young men
possess are attached to their watotL
chains.
